


The Red Backpack

by pattonthestarboy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cute Rosamund Mary "Rosie" Watson, Fluff, Hedgehog John, M/M, Otter Sherlock, Post Season 4, Rosie has anxiety, Sherlock is trying, familial Sherlock, good parent john watson, mrs hudson is a godsend, rosie spitting straight facts tbh, stuffed toy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:00:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26118394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pattonthestarboy/pseuds/pattonthestarboy
Summary: John is looking to enter Rosie in her first year of school soon, and he plans on doing it from a new, better home. However, their life at 221b Baker Street is precious and he is not sure if he can commit to leaving it behind just yet.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35





	1. Almost Memories

John pushed his grey hair back with a sigh and surveyed the empty office before him. He wasn’t trying to avoid Sherlock, exactly, but it had been a long day even by his standards and he longed for nothing more than for a few moments to think. 

Three days he had spent at the office late into the night, each more frustrating than the last. Rosie was coming up on six years old now, well past time she should begin school like he had, and yet... nothing he’d found seemed quite adequate for his little girl. He had hoped he could walk her to the school near 221B Baker Street, but unless he was to rely on Sherlock's funds (perish the thought) the school was well out of their budget, both money and time-wise. Each place he had visited was worse than the last, each website harder to follow, and as much as he hated the thought it was beginning to look like he’d have to move out to the suburbs to find a school that would fit, at the least, the needs of both himself and his daughter.

He smiled to himself. Ah, Rosie. As difficult as it had been single parenting after Mary’s passing, he had to admit his daughter remained the light of his life. Her naturally inquisitive nature and dramatic flair was a joy to behold, and though her energy had gotten her into a few scrapes she was sooner to fight the furniture than to cry over the injury. Even better, Sherlock tolerated her and John had his suspicions that she had done more to melt his heart than his friendship ever could have. 

“She is very bright,” Sherlock had murmured after she’d fallen asleep in John’s arms listening to him play violin. “I have no doubt her mind compares to mine at her age.” John ran his fingers through her blonde hair for a few moments before replying.

“That’s quite something, coming from you.” 

“She adores you. You’ve taught her so much, Sherlock, sometimes i forget she’s my daughter and not yours.  
Sherlock’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Oh, it’s not a bad thing! You were the one that convinced me to keep her home another year, anyway. Mrs. Hudson tells me that when we‘re gone, Rosie practically won’t stop making up stories about our adventures, and her love of insects is unparalleled, except maybe by yours...”  
He trailed off as Sherlock knelt before the pair, transfixed. He extended his hand and gently, almost tenderly pushed stray locks off her face, then carefully wrapped under her torso and lifted her off of John. Rosie made a small sound and turned into Sherlock’s chest, clutching his shirt lightly and the look that flashed across his face was so intimate John felt like an intruder until Sherlock lifted his gaze and locked onto his.  
It felt like the air left the room all at once. 

John stepped out of the building and coughed on the putrid city air, then raised his arm for a cab. Sherlock would be distraught if he knew John was even considering moving away from Baker Street, but he would have to understand, no matter how unhappy it would make him. After all, their little home was never built to last forever.


	2. Loose Tooth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mrs. Hudson comes up to visit and Rosie has a bit of a crisis of her own. All's well that ends well though, and Sherlock invites John to join him on a case that he can't wait to solve. TW, Rosie has an anxiety attack and there's a slight blood mention.

“Good morning!”  
“Auntie Hudson!” a flash of blonde pigtails launched itself across the room into the landlady, who gracefully handed the teapot to John and returned the embrace. Sherlock nodded his thanks from the counter where he’d been sat, reading.

“I have a loose tooth!” Rosie bubbled. “And it’s raining, Mrs. Hudson! And look!”

The collective gasp of delight went unnoticed as Rosie began to spin, puffing out her brown corduroy dress and flapping her pink patterned sleeves. John swept her into his arms before she collided with the counter and tossed her on the couch, their laughter mixing with a small oof as her backside hit the cushions. With a command of “Again!” they spun around each other, two laughing stars in their own galaxy until their knees went weak and they fell to the floor, rumpled and undignified, only to begin a tickle fight. Mrs. Hudson chuckled.

“Just look at the two of them, all bright-eyed and bushy tailed! You don’t want to know what I would give for some of that…” Sherlock puffed out his cheeks in agreement before grabbing her wrist in alarm. 

There was blood on Rosie’s lip.

“John,” Mrs. Hudson ventured. It was half a statement, half a command.  
He froze, hand poised in the air. Rosie wriggled away and jumped onto the couch, still oblivious, the red drip continuing to fall.  
John sucked in a breath.

“Rosie, sweetie?” he ventured, trying to keep the alarm out of his voice.  
She stilled suddenly, backing against the wall.  
“What’s wrong, Daddy?”  
Her eyes flashed between the trio. John stuttered and stepped forward, wiping the blood with his thumb. Mrs. Hudson snorted and slapped his hands away.  
“Ooh, don’t let him scare you!” she smiled, patting her arm.  
“You just lost your first tooth, dearie.”  
Rosie’s eyes, already wide, began to fill with silent tears.

“B-but I don’t wanna lose a tooth!” she whispered shakily. “It doesn’t feel right, Daddy! Put it back!”  
John shook his head gently and opened his arms. Mrs. Hudson rubbed circles on the child’s back as her breathing sped and hitched, and John could hear Sherlock quietly talking on the phone behind them. Rosie was trying to match his breathing like he'd taught her to do and he closed his eyes, planting small kisses to the top of her head as she slowly calmed.

After a few minutes, it was Mrs. Hudson who spoke first. “Rosie, dear, I know this is something new and scary, but today’s a very special day!" Rosie turned, still gripping her father tightly.  
"How about some ice cream to celebrate? Would you like that?" The reply was soft when it came. "Could I wear my ladybug boots?" Mrs. Hudson looked up for confirmation, then nodded. "And use your umbrella?" Mrs. Hudson took the little girl's hand in hers. "I suppose just this once." 

“The phone call was from Lestrade.” The pair had barely disappeared down the stairs and Sherlock was close, very close behind John's ear. He tilted his neck at the sound and didn't bother to turn. Even though he couldn’t see Sherlock, he could feel the excitement beginning to roll through his partner as he pictured the case in his mind.  
“The game is on then?” he asked, looking out the window at the street below.  
He could almost hear Sherlock's grin.  
“The game is on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading ! Sorry the update took forever and ever, I had it saved on my laptop and just... forgot. Ah, life. Let me know if I missed any grammar/spelling errors : )


	3. Sewing Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Upon the boys' return, they discover a little red backpack with a book and some sew-on letters in it. Fluff ensues... until a misunderstanding causes an early end to their night.

It was late before John and Sherlock returned, far past Rosie’s bedtime. It had been quite a delicate case, nothing they couldn’t handle but it had kept them out nearly to sunrise, long past both their second winds and point of full coherence, although neither would admit it. Lestrade and John finally teamed up on Sherlock so the poor man could finish the paperwork in peace, but they were still too exhilarated to sleep.

“John, what is this?” Sherlock’s voice floated into the kitchen where John sat scribbling notes. John hummed.  
Sherlock abruptly dropped into the chair opposite, making him jump.

“This,” he said, deliberately swinging something over John’s hands.

“Sherl--you made me mess--” John flicked the pencil across the table..

“Ok, what’re you on about?”  
An bright red backpack lay between the two men, a ladybug keychain dangling from the zipper pull. It was clearly new, empty besides a child’s book and a little plastic bag. John dumped the bag on the table unceremoniously, five letters spilling out.

“Rosie,” he breathed. Sherlock remained still and watched John’s hands arranging the letters on the front of the bag.

“I don’t reckon either of us blokes know how to sew…” John chuckled, rubbing his face with his hand.

“Actually, I do.”

“No way,” John stared him down incredulously. “You can sew?”  
Sherlock raised his eyebrows and John’s cheeks flushed.

“Seriously, how did I not know this?”  
Sherlock rolled his eyes. “You don’t know a lot of things about me.”

“You have to show me.”

It took a few minutes but soon they were settled on the couch across from each other, John in possession of the backpack and letters and Sherlock wielding the sewing kit his mother had given him before University. John thought it was adorable that Sherlock had kept it for so long and said so, and this time it was Sherlock’s turn to blush and busy himself with stitching.

“Oh the places you’ll go!” read John, holding up the forgotten storybook like a librarian.

“Do you mind?” he whispered to Sherlock, who had a mouth full of pins.  
Sherlock didn't object, but after reading about halfway through the book John's voice began to give out to the strain of the night’s adventures. In a moment, Sherlock set the backpack aside and took the book, turning so John could see the illustrations as he read. John scooted closer and wrapped his arms around Sherlock and it was nice, more than they’d ever admit. The book ended in what felt like seconds after that but neither of them moved away.

“I’ve been looking at houses in outer London,” John blurted.

“Rosie needs to live closer to a school and have friends her age and a garden to play in. I know it seems really fast but I don’t think it’s the best option to keep living here with you.”  
Sherlock pulled away with a huff and fixed an unfocused stare past John’s head.

“She’s getting too big to share a bedroom with me, and you know how Baker Street is always falling apart at the seams with all sorts of people! I just know she’ll waltz into meetings covered in mud and scream when you’re trying to study or dip her fingers into your experiments and get hurt!“ John rushed on, trying to finish before Sherlock inevitably spoke.

“I just don’t think this is the place she‘ll be the best she can be!”  
His words echoed for a moment but the silence afterward was even more unbearable.  
Sherlock finally spoke, voice monotone and void of emotion.

“You worry she‘ll grow up to be like me.”  
John almost laughed at the absurdity.

“No, I--”

“I knew this was going to happen a long time ago. Of course, Mrs. Hudson will be heartbroken and I would do anything to convince you otherwise, if only for her sake. But you’re right. I’m--Baker Street is holding you back from the future, yours and hers.”  
John sprang to his feet, fists clenched. 

“Sherlock, no, you don’t understand! You’re taking this all wrong, stop it!”

“And what about me is so wrong? What about our home is so terrible you have to leave?”  
Sherlock rose gracefully and walked to the door, then turned, face still blank.

“I understand, John. You’re better without me.”


	4. Ladybug

“Daddy, daddy! Look at me!”   
John ran a hand down his face.  
“Is it your backpack again? Daddy can’t look right now, can you show me later?”  
“No Daddy, look! I’m flying!” A whoop was punctuated by creaks and thumps as Rosie jumped off the couch arm and back up again.  
“Come jump with me, Sherlock!”   
The poor man looked less than enthusiastic upon his emergence into the kitchen and the chaos within. John doubted either of them had gotten enough sleep the past few nights.  
“Honey, Sherlock can’t come play with you right now. Can you please settle down? You don’t want to lose a tooth again, now do you?”  
Rosie continued jumping.  
“My teeth are fine! You told me not to be scared if I lose any more!”   
Sherlock sighed and grabbed a mug of tea off the counter, not caring if John had drank from it or not.  
“Have I taught you about skull fractures yet?”  
Rosie paused.   
“Are you going to?”  
“Not unless you crack your head open falling off that couch there.”

The little girl’s eyes lit up.  
“Really?”  
John aimed a death glare at Sherlock, who forcefully put the cup in the sink and crossed his arms.  
“I am not taking you to the clinic today. Now, please, get off that couch and finish your breakfast.”  
“But Daddy, I--”  
“Rosie,” John warned. In an instant she was sat at the table, shoveling in cereal at the fastest speed her body would allow. Milk splashed over the sides of the bowl and onto her hands, which had been left unwashed. John poked her cheek, interrupting the food frenzy.  
“You forgot something…” he wiggled his fingers up by her face.  
“No, you forgot something!” she laughed back, mimicking the gesture.  
“No, you--”  
“No, you!” the two Watsons argued back and forth, making silly faces as they went.  
“ARGHH, up you go, little bug!” John grabbed Rosie under the arms and carried her to the sink. “Time to wash your claws!”  
“Bugs don’t have claws, they have legs!” Rosie argued back.  
“There are many bugs with claws, they just are not native to London,” Sherlock leaned against the counter.  
“Coooool!” John helped the distracted child reach the soap and washed their hands together, likely missing spots but nevertheless, it was an improvement. He reached for a towel and Rosie wriggled out of his grip, running with dripping hands to Sherlock and wiping them on his pants.  
“I wanna see claw bugs! Please Sherlock, can you show me claw bugs?”  
“Eat first.” was his only reply as he pocketed his phone and re-entered his bedroom which had been his hideout for the past few days. John doubted the man would emerge for the rest of the day, or not until he was gone at least.   
“Rosie, are you doing anything with Mrs. Hudson today?” he asked wearily before she grabbed her spoon off the milk-splattered table. “Anything fun?”  
Rosie gasped excitedly and ran around to the back of her chair to her backpack, which lay crooked and half-zipped on the floor. Upon it, the first four letters were sewn on tidily with a steady hand, but the final letter made John grimace at the crooked placement. It was clear he hadn’t known what he was doing, but he was not about to let an argument stop him from giving his daughter a gift, especially not one that was quickly so beloved to her. Rosie hardly went anywhere without it now. Currently it was a home to some of her favorite stuffed animals, at least until she had a proper use for it.  
“Mrs. Hudson and I are having a woodland tea party!” she exclaimed, holding up two stuffed animals above her head. “We’re going to use her special tea set and everything!” She dropped the animals into John’s lap and returned to gulping down her now more soggy breakfast cereal.   
“Mrs. Hudson said I needed to name my animals so I named them John and Sherlock Holmes.”  
“Why didn’t the hedgehog get a last name?” John asked, brows furrowing slightly as he held it up.  
“He did! It’s Holmes, remember?” John held up the otter in his other hand hopefully.  
“So they’re brothers?”  
“They’re married.”  
John coughed and arranged the stuffed animals on the table in front of Rosie.  
“Who’s idea was that, yours or Mrs. Hudsons?”  
“It was mine! I love you most in the world so I gave them your names.” She ran to his lap and pushed their noses together, making a kissing sound, then ran back.  
“Are you sure animals can kiss? I didn’t think hedgehogs and otters like each other in real life.” John felt the tips of his ears heating up.  
“They kiss when I tell them to.” Rosie finished her breakfast speedrun and collected her animals in her arms again.  
“Do you and Sherlock kiss?”  
Okay, the blush was certainly reaching more than just the ears now. John tried to cover it but it was no use.  
“Sherlock is my friend. You don’t kiss your friends.”  
Rosie cocked her head at him.  
“l… it would be inappropriate.”  
“I think he likes you, Daddy!”  
John scoffed and ruffled her hair affectionately.  
“I think you wanna kiss Sherlock--”  
Okay, definitely less affectionately now.  
“Rosie, no. For the last time, no, I do not want to kiss Sherlock Holmes.”  
Rosie reached the door and pulled it open, haphazardly carrying her backpack and toys.  
“I love you, ladybug!” John waved.  
“Have fun with Sherlock!” she waved back.


End file.
